Dancing Fool (Ben and Naomi’s Wedding)

Someday, when my daughter asks how our family got to be so weird, I am going to show her this picture.

Dancing Fools

And then I’m going to tell her that weirdness is a family trait. And that it’s genetic.

And then I’m going to show her this one. And she’s going to cry.

Waaaay back in May, a couple of our friends got married at the Hotel Marlowe in Cambridge. I’m just getting around to writing about it. Because procrastination, she is in my blood.

I wasn’t sure how the wedding was going to go. I bought a new dress on super sale online (it was originally $140, and I paid $20!), but miscalculated the size. Pro tip! Designer maternity clothes run just as small as regular designer clothes. There was a very real chance that I was going to be required to use safety pins to get the damn thing to close in the back. And then leave a cardigan on all night to cover up my unintentional punk rock look.

I guess there was always the option of showing up in yoga pants, but I hear they frown on that at fancy weddings…

I loooove to dance at weddings and I wasn’t sure if I’d be up for it. The thought of sitting at a table while all of our friends boogied and I over-heated in my sweater? Well, it wasn’t exactly the happiest.

Long story short? My dress zipped up without the help of any safety pins. And I was actually feeling good enough to dance.

Did I pay for my boogying the next day? You betcha. But so worth it.

Little known fact: when an enormous pregnant lady starts jumping around like an idiot on the dance floor, it tends to attract an inordinate share of attention. And camera attention. It was like I had set off a homing beacon for the wedding photographer to follow. He zoomed right in on me. I am a total ham, but even I felt over-exposed. I think there are about a half a bazillion photos out there of me dancing while attempting to cover up my face (the belly, she was a lost cause).

Kristian doesn’t dance unless he’s the guy getting married. And even then, it takes several months of cajoling to get him to agree to it. So he doesn’t always have the best times at weddings. Lucky for him, this wedding featured an outstanding selection of beer, and insanely delicious food. Also, I ordered the surf and turf and gave him the surf.

Surf and Surf.

Also, our friends are rather entertaining.

This is why Emily drinks.

If we went to an evening wedding now, Kristian would probably be dragging my ass home around 8pm. But I was still feeling frisky enough to stick around for most of the shenanigans. Of which there were many.

You… don’t want to know.

Eventually, it was bed-time. Ok, it was Tylenol time. And then it was bed-time. But first! Kristian was contractually obligated to take a photo of me sitting in an absolutely enormous chair. I was hoping that it would make me look tiny by comparison. Sadly, it was not to be.

And that’s the truth! Thhhhbbbbbbb!!!! (cookie if you get the reference)

I’ve got another wedding to post about. One where I was vested with certain powers by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. And may or may not have made certain pronouncements about certain people being husband and wife.

But that’s a story for another day.